


Embers and Ash

by fishoutofcamelot



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sick Fic, the only sick fic ive ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27730129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishoutofcamelot/pseuds/fishoutofcamelot
Summary: With everyone else away for various reasons, Arthur is the only one left to look after Merlin when he falls ill.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 91





	Embers and Ash

Arthur wasn’t the type to sit and watch. Typically if someone was hurt or ill, he’d try to distract himself with work and exercise.

But this time? This time it was different. This time Gaius was taking care of an illness in one of the outer villages, Gwen was banished, and most of the Round Table knights were out on patrol.

And Merlin was sick. Very, very sick.

So sick, in fact, that Arthur had sent a letter to Gaius requesting his immediate return to Camelot. So sick that Arthur would prefer a lengthy talk about taxes with his uncle while battling Morgana blindfolded.

Arthur had scoured Gaius’s books as best as he could, hoping to find something that could tell him how to cure Merlin. All he knew was that they were in the middle of a conversation when Merlin just…crumpled to the ground. Like that one doll that always gets abandoned because it’s too old and ratty to play with.

And here Arthur was. Dabbing at Merlin’s sweaty, unhealthily hot forehead with a wet cloth. He would pat it around for a few times, flip it over, and then replace it because the cloth had already gotten too warm again.

Arthur had also tried his hand at giving Merlin some water, but Merlin wasn’t conscious enough to drink it so Arthur nearly choked him. Twice.

“This isn’t becoming of a king,” Agravaine warned. “Your people will not respect your strength as a leader.”

“I care not for strength,” he said absentmindedly, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and bags heavy under his eyes. “But for compassion.”

Agravaine tried and failed to hide his disapproving scowl.

On the fourth day - or fourth night; Arthur had lost all stable perception of time - there was a break. Not in the fever, not in the illness, but in the sickly silence.

“N…no…”

“Merlin!” In an instant, Arthur rushed to his friend’s side.

Merlin just turned his head from side to side in discomfort, writhing weakly beneath his threadbare sheet. “No,” he gasped.

Arthur placed his hands on Merlin’s warm, lithe shoulders, and shook them a bit. “Merlin, wake up. C'mon, you lazy sod.”

But Merlin being Merlin, he didn’t so as he was told. He remained locked in the throes of what Arthur could only assume was the worst sort of fever dream.

“A-Arthur…please…”

“I’m right here.” Momentarily forgetting their difference in status, Arthur reached out to clasp Merlin’s clammy fingers between his own.

“…w…why…” A few hot tears slipped down his bony cheeks. “…why are…y-you burning m…me…p-please…no…”

Merlin’s words slapped him across the face. Arthur sat there numbly frozen in place as Merlin continued to groan and weep through his dreams.

Was that what Merlin dreamt of? That Arthur would burn him? But why? Didn’t he know that Arthur would do anything for him?

No. No he didn’t.

The moans grew louder. “Arthur! A-Arthur, please! I’m sorry! Don’t let me burn!”

After what must have been five eternities of sitting there in shock, Arthur watched as Merlin turned his head to side, no longer writhing, and let out a shaky exhale.

“…w…why?” Merlin rasped, his voice barely a wet whisper.

Merlin didn’t make another noise that night, or indeed in the following morning. He didn’t so much as stir until late afternoon the next day, when Gaius arrived to fix him up a proper treatment.

And Arthur? Arthur just wandered back to his chamber. Merlin’s nightmare had given him a lot to think about.

But with Gaius back, Arthur was back in the business of workaholic distraction. He spent the next week running himself into the ground with work and training and meetings, as neither Merlin nor Gwen were there to cajole him out of his sour mood.

Merlin returned to work eight days later. He crashed into the room as noisily as ever, flung open the curtains with all the finesse of a drunk goat, and cheerily pulled off Arthur’s blankets. “Let’s have you, lazy daisy!”

Arthur threw a pillow at him, and Merlin laughed, and Arthur almost completely forgot about the nightmare altogether. It was so hard to reconcile the frightened, pallid, scared-for-his-life Merlin from that night with the obnoxiously pleasant individual Merlin standing before him. Most days, Arthur let himself pretend the incident never happened.

But sometimes, when they were gathered around a campfire, or when Merlin stoked the flames in Arthur’s bedroom hearth, the king would catch a tremulous emotion flash in his servant’s eyes. _Fear_.

It was certainly something to think about.

**Author's Note:**

> Posted this on Tumblr like a year ago or something, decided I'd post it to ao3 for extra validation. Also because I'm trying to jumpstart the ol' fanfiction machine and get back into writing again. Maybe posting some of my old, unpublished works will be a good segue. Anyway, thanks for reading! <3


End file.
